Labels
by Jinxgirl
Summary: People always refer to Jessica as Trish's adoptive sister, and technically they are right. What they don't know is she's also kind of her ex.


For the past fifteen years, everyone in Jessica Jones's life had referred to Patricia Walker as her sister, with or without the conditional description of "adoptive" pushed in front of the term. She guessed the label was true, in the most technical aspect of the word. What no one knew was although Trish was her sister, sort of, she was also her ex. Sort of.

It wasn't something they'd ever given a label to, or even attempted to talk about. At first, none of it had seemed a big enough deal to warrant it, and over time, Jessica's fear and Trish's insecurity had kept the prospect of an actual discussion taboo. But in the rare moments that Jessica let her mind drift back in time, she had to acknowledge that her relationship with Trish had checked all the markers of an actual relationship, whether or not the word was ever spoken aloud.

It had first started when they were young; neither had even possessed a driver's permit, let alone a license. Even now Jessica couldn't bring herself to think of what they had done as "cuddling," but she couldn't think of another word that would be just as accurate in description without being as alarming. Trish had started hanging outside Jessica's bedroom doorway some nights, so anxious and pathetic-looking that Jessica had finally, grudgingly started to tell her she could come in. It wasn't like she was sleeping most nights anyway. Trish sitting on the edge of Jessica's bed most nights and talking nervously about a bunch of nothing before going back to her own room for the night had turned into Trish falling asleep sprawled over Jessica's bed, and without Jessica quite understanding how it had happened, more often than not, Trish was actually crawling beneath her covers without waiting for an invitation, with full intention of sleeping in Jessica's bed for the night. The most frustrating part of it all was that although Jessica continued to feign reluctance, indifference, or irritation to Trish's presence, in actuality she looked forward to the nights that she came.

She pretended not to notice when Trish's simply sleeping beside her began to shift into Trish curling close, pressing her body into Jessica's side. She managed to convince herself that as long as she didn't actively touch Trish back, she was in no way participating with this show of affection. But the first night that Trish came into her bed sniffling, slump-shouldered and devastated over something Dorothy Walker had said to her, Jessica had not only let Trish hide her face into her shoulder and dig her fingers into the loose folds of her t-shirt, she had slowly, carefully brought her arm around Trish to hug her back for the first time.

After that it became somehow natural for Jessica to hug Trish and allow herself to be hugged. She held her breath initially with each embrace, almost overwhelmed with the expectation that it would hurt, that it would remind her too painfully of the hugs she had once received from her parents. She had not been an affectionate child, and it seemed wrong to her that she should now willingly accept or give any hugs to others when she had once shrugged off or gritted her teeth through her parents' efforts at affection. But eventually even this inner protest slowly dimmed, and hugging Trish began to seem almost normal, just part of what went with having her in her life.

As they grew older, the cuddly sleepovers- not that Jessica would have ever thought of them in those terms- had turned into Trish's giggly, almost joking speculations of what it might be like to try something more. Being an actress, she had of course come across any number of gay and bicurious adults and teens, and Jessica was pretty sure she had developed something of a crush on an older female guest star on her show. The first time they kissed was more of a joke than anything else, an experiment that was to shut Trish up as much as it was from Jessica's own curiosity. It was awkward, all dry lips and banging teeth, and Trish had started giggling in the middle, whispering that Jessica tasted like the spearmint gum she had stolen out of Trish's desk. The kiss had impressed neither of them enough to want to repeat it. At least not then.

Trish's curiosity had seemed to wane as she got older and felt more pressure, both externally and internally, to begin to pursue older men. Her "dates" with boys her own age ended in disappointment, either because of their clueless or even rude behavior, or because she herself found them boring. Of course, plenty of older men were interested, and on more than one occasion Trish's naïve nature ended in personal disaster. Even when Trish tried not to let Jessica know or see, she usually could tell when the other girl had been hurt or used, and she burned inside with her rage on Trish's behalf. Had Trish not made Jessica promise not to threaten or hurt anyone on her behalf, Jessica would have cheerfully done so many times over.

They were maybe seventeen when Trish kissed Jessica for the second time, with a suddenness that Jessica was caught off guard by. This time was more aggressive, almost desperate, and Trish's experience had expanded enough that Jessica felt herself respond automatically. Trish's hands against Jessica's shoulders gripped her hard enough for her nails to bite into their skin through her shirt. Jessica had wondered then if Trish was seeing her as herself in the kiss, or if part of her was using Jessica to try to redo or erase the memory of someone else, someone who had hurt her. She wondered, but she let her do what she thought Trish needed, even when it hurt for Trish not to say anything about it the next day. In a way, it seemed the least she could do for her, after everything Trish had done for Jessica.

It wasn't long after that second kiss that Trish's drinking and drug use started to increase, just enough to be noticeable at first. She had dabbled with drugs and alcohol for brief periods before, sometimes more worrisomely than others, but Jessica saw quickly enough that this time, she was getting out of control. This time, Trish wouldn't be able to stop herself before things went too far.

She tried on more than one occasion, at more than one setting, to make out with Jessica again, or even to drag her into her bed or any other flat surface within a nearby distance. It wasn't that Jessica would have been totally unwilling, and she couldn't deny that she had toyed with the idea more than a time or two, sometimes less idly than others. But always in her inner musings, she and Trish had hooked up when Trish was sober, not in any danger of slipping into an unconscious or near death state, and fully aware of what she was doing and the repercussions it could bring. Never had she felt any desire to get with a Trish who was swaying on her feet, booze emanating from her pores as much as her breath, with eyes so dilated she hardly seemed able to see.

It wasn't even a temptation, let alone a possibility. So each time Jessica had turned her down, sometimes more harshly than others, and focused instead on getting Trish home and to bed unhurt and unused by others far less considerate than she was. Each time she hoped that her actions would get through to Trish just what she was doing to herself, and just how much Jessica cared compared to the men who discarded Trish before morning had even arrived. She hoped that Trish would start to realize that if Jessica thought she was worth that, then maybe it was true.

But instead, Trish overdosed, not just once but several times, each instance vivid and raw to Jessica, forever seered into her mind as an added layer to her complex inner mix of trauma. She went to rehab a few times, and over years of struggle, slowly, painstakingly began to pull herself back from the edge she had driven herself nearly over. Slowly, she began to look and sound and behave like the Trish Jessica had once known- no, more than that. She was beginning to come into the Trish Jessica had known she could one day be.

It was a difficult time for them both. Trish was still getting herself back onto her feet after years of self abuse and rehab stints, looking over the tattered, publically sneered at remnants of her career, and thinking of how to piece it back together into something she could respect and be respected for. She was separating from her mother, both personally and professionally, this time for good, looking for the person that she was on her own, living by her own choices and means. For Jessica, it was not long after the murder of Jessica's boyfriend, the first person she had felt she could love, and she still felt raw inside, wary of putting herself into any situation that could open her up to that level of pain all over. The last thing either of them needed was romance of any kind, even a one night stand.

But what they did need was a friend. Even better, a sister.

So that was what they became again. It was what drew them together, this mutual need for support and hope when their own heads and hearts could not sustain it. They started with phone calls and texts, quickly becoming frequent dinners or coffees out together or in Trish's new apartment. It made sense for Jessica to eventually move in; she had an extra room never put to use, after all, and Trish's place was far better than anything Jessica could have afforded on her own. Trish began to nag at Jessica again to use her super powers for something outside of her own life, to become the hero Trish had always been so excited at the thought of. And for a time, with Trish believing in it so fully- believing in her- Jessica even thought it was possible too.

The night before Kilgrave came into her life was the first night since they were seventeen years old that Jessica had spent the night in Trish's bed in some way beyond platonic practicality or affection. The night had started out as no different from any other, relaxed, playful, even boring. Jessica had been in an irritable mood, complaining about yet another dead end and brain numbing job she was about to walk out on, and Trish alternated between teasing, commiserating, and encouraging. Not so subtly she had suggested the possibility of Jessica using her super powers as some sort of career rather than a side hobby- something that Jessica had scoffed at. Sure, super heroes were known, after the whole alien thing a few years back, but they were still often regarded with either cartoonish, fanboy worship, deep suspicion, or outright hostility. Who exactly would set out to hire and pay a super hero for legitimate reasons, to do a legitimate job that wasn't along the lines of a hired killer?

Jessica didn't remember what it was that she had said that prompted Trish to throw a pillow in her face, but no doubt it had been sarcastic, rude, or cynical. She hadn't expected the blow, and she had reacted with instinct, hurling it back towards Trish. They were thirty years old, but this had not stopped them from launching into an all out pillow battle, resulting in the destruction of several of Trish's expensive decorative pillows Jessica had never seen the use for anyway. By the time this drew to a stop, Trish was breathless, her blue eyes bright with mischief and something more, something intense and new. Jessica's hair was sparking with static, and when Trish straddled her knees, one hand reaching to slowly smooth it back into place, she knew what was coming even before Trish leaned in and sealed her mouth over hers.

The make out session carried over into the bedroom, and well into the next day. When they woke up in the morning, both were still clad only in a sheet tangled at their feet, the dark hair of Jessica's mingled with Trish's until it appeared they had woven into one.

In the light of the day, all the apprehension and fears, the insecurities and self-doubt, that Jessica had managed to squash down the night before rose back up within her, large, threatening, and unable to be ignored. She had pulled away from Trish, careful not to arouse her, and exited as quickly as it was possible to dress and get the hell out the front door. She had left a brief note, letting her know that she was just taking time to clear her head, but that she would be back that night.

She had meant it, even with her fear. Jessica had always meant to come back.

But that was the night that Kilgrave first saw her, fighting against the mugger in the alley. That was the night that he gave his first command for her to come to him, and Jessica could not disobey.

Of course, Trish knew now what had happened. She was smart enough to do the math to realize the date Jessica had gone missing, the date of their morning after, had been the same period of time in which Kilgrave had taken her. She had to know, although it was never explicitly said, that Jessica had not intended or wanted to disappear.

But she could not have known it then. Not when eight months passed with no texts, no calls, no emails, without any communication between her and Jessica at all. She could only have assumed that Jessica had run, scared or disgusted from what had happened, and so uncaring of Trish's feelings that she had not even deigned to tell her that the night had been a mistake.

It hadn't been a mistake, or it wouldn't have been, if Kilgrave hadn't happened. But maybe it was now.

Trish knew now that Jessica's disappearance was not Jessica's fault, or her fault, that it had had nothing to do with that night. But for so long she hadn't, and although she never said so to Jessica, the pain this had caused her must have been intense. Jessica carried the knowledge and guilt of this now as just one more thing she was responsible for, as illogical as she knew this to be. They never talked about it, not the disappearance, not the night before it, but the knowledge was there, uncomfortable and pained for Jessica, if not for Trish.

It could never happen again, after everything. Sex with someone Jessica actually cared about didn't even seem possible, not after Kilgrave. She was too much risk to them, not only their heart but their very life, and they were far too much risk for her emotionally and mentally. It was impossible to even consider, and certainly unfair. It was better to cut herself off and close herself down, considering nothing more than friends at arms length and one night stands. The risk was too much.

So now, and for the rest of their life, as far as Jessica was concerned, Trish was her best friend, and technically, to everyone else and sometimes even herself, Trish was her sister. But she was once her lover too, and once upon a time, she had had every possibility of being more.


End file.
